History in a Rock
by meediah
Summary: [This is post-Hogwarts. AU...sorta. In this, there is no Draco Malfoy in present times. Have to read to understand.] Harry gets a wizarding laptop. He meets this guy on it one night, a Draco Malfoy who knows little about modern times. Intresting...
1. Prologue

The sun set as it always did. Night fell as was typical. Another day had passed. Those of the magical origin gladly snuffed out their candles and muggles switched off their lights, equally glad that their long, tiring day was finally over. At least in most peoples homes...

Darkness penetrated each room of the flat. Well, all but one room. It was the one and only bedroom in the flat from which an eerie blue light came from inside, enough to light up nearly the entire hall. What the light came from was a laptop of sorts, sitting pen in front of a young man. For some reason, it seemed the youth was glaring at the computer and soon began talking to it.

"This is all you're fault, you know. If only you had not come with such a huge manual that I just 'HAD' to read, then I would've been able to get something done tonight, but nooooo," he accused, just vaguely aware that he was speaking to an inanimate object.

Once the thought of what he was doing really reached his brain, he thought, 'I really need to go to sleep before I completely lose it.' So with that, he pulled himself out of the little, leather chair he had been sitting in and wandered over to his bed. He pulled on some pajamas (navy blue ones with a pattern of broomsticks and these weird golden balls with wings on them) that had been resting on the sheets.

He got in between the covers and took off the thin rectangular frames that were perched on the end of his nose. Carefully, he set them down on a bedside table and picked up a long, thin stick. It was a worn thing covered with multiple fingerprint marks and strange as it sounded, it almost seemed to come alive when the youth touched it.

He swished the tip of it towards a few candles that seemed to be floating in mid-air. Quickly and quietly, something was whispered under his breath and one-by-one the candles' flames danced for a second before flickering out. When all the candles had been snuffed out, the young man was satisfied and placed the wand down. He happily sunk in to the sheets, ready for the blissful and refreshing peace known as sleep to descend upon him.

As he started to lose himself to unconsciousness though, he heard several sharp clicking sounds happen in a rapid fashion. He quickly sat up in his bed and grabbed for his wand in case the noise meant something bad…It had stopped of course by the time he was fully alert, but now that he was awake, he might as well check out the source of his irritation since he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep until he had.

He had to untangled himself from the expanse of sheets and blankets, before he softly settled his feet on the ground. He swished his wand through the air and muttered "lumos". The tip of his wand grew warm and light spread from it, just enough to see without tripping.

Slipping on his glasses, the young man then began to trudge through the whole house searching for whatever had created the disturbance before, but it was near impossible because the clicking had stopped a while ago. Sighing in frustration, the youth wandered into the kitchen to pour himself a steaming cup of coffee. He was awake now and the chances of him returning to sleep were near zero, so he might as well wake himself up all the way…At least that's how he figured it.

Minutes later found him padding back to his bedroom with a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. 'I think I might write another chapter or something. Hmmm…,' he thought as he reached for a piece of parchment and a quill from his desk before he glanced at the silvery glowing box.

He shrugged and instead of gathering the needed writing supplies, he reached for the laptop. He figured he might try to type something on his new computer, now that he had spent all day reading the huge manual.

The young man positioned his fingers above the mouse and keys and...stopped. Stopped and stared. An IP -Instant Parchment- was on the screen and he wasn't even logged into the WWWWW yet. It was the Witches and Wizards' World Wide Web. The popup was in the shape of a scrolled piece of parchment and the words looked like this:

**Dragon boy:** _Hello? Are you out there? Please, someone...anyone talk to me._

He was unsure whether to answer, but the boy on the other side sounded so pitiful, he had to.

**Goldengriffin:** _Um...hey?  
_  
He waited for several seconds. The typing started again and the strange thing was...the typing that 'Dragonboy' was doing...was with his keys. He stared wide-eyed at his keyboard as the keys began pressing down at a rapid pace, like an invisible hand decided that it absolutely loved to press the little buttons.

**Dragonboy:** _You replied! Thank the fates! I am soo lonely where I am and I have not talked to anybody in the longest of times. Enough of that though, we'll talk about that later. Anyways, introductions are in order. My name is Draconis Lucious Malfoy II, more informally known as Draco. I am at your service.  
_  
He blinked before slowly typing back.

**Goldengriffin:** _Wow. Ah well, my name is...actually I don't know if I should tell you my name. _

**Dragonboy:** _And why not? I told you mine. It is only polite to return the curtsey.  
_  
**Goldengriffin:** _How do I know that you wouldn't use my name against me?  
_  
**Dragonboy**: _Use your name against you? How so?  
_  
**Goldengriffin**: _I have many enemies, though the number has reduced quite a bit over the last 6 years... _

**Dragonboy:** _Really? Has something major happened over the last 6 years? _

**Goldengriffin:** _Duh! Dark Lord Voldemort...He-who-must-not-be-named...You-know-who...You know.  
_  
**Dragonboy:** _...I still have no clue as to what you are talking about. _

He gasped.

**Goldengriffin**: _WHAT! Is that possible? For someone in the wizarding world not to know the name of the most feared wizard ever?  
_  
**Dragonboy**: _Apparently it is. The only dark wizard I know of is Tromedlov. _

**Goldengriffin**: _Who the hell is that!  
_  
**Dragonboy:** _One of the darkest, most evil wizards ever. He was in league with Morgana to kill King Arthur for the throne. He was the strongest of the two and though most said that it was Merlin who killed her, it was really Tromedlov when she wanted more then he wanted to give her. He rained terror down on all. Finally though, he was defeated when a young teen, Merlin's prodigy you could say, defeated him. In the aftermath, the boy was sealed away into a talisman covered in ancient runes of languages then and now dead. No one really knows what happened after that though, and the boy was, for the most part, forgotten about. _

He stared at the screen in amazement. He had never heard that story before and suddenly he wanted to learn more about this time of kings and knights and other such things. It sounded so much like what had happened recently though. Then again, they say that history has a habit of repeating itself...he shrugged it off and typed something in.

**Goldengriffin:** _Hello, Draco. My name is...Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you._


	2. Between Friends

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Let me in! Are you even in there? Harry!" A voice shouted from the other side of the door.

Harry got up from his kitchen counter where he had been enjoying his nice breakfast of biscuits and sausage gravy, and opened the rattling door. "Shut the hell up, Ron. It's too bloody early in the morning for you to be breaking down my door."

Ron stepped inside and sat down at the counter, then turned to face his best friend. Harry handed him a cup of coffee. "Thanks," he said before taking a sip. "But Harry, it's noon! How could you possibly think that this is early!"

"I was up all night, but that's besides the point. You need to settle down, Ron. You've been yelling practically ever since stepped through my door. What's got you so uptight?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his fiery shock of hair. "Sorry 'bout that, mate. I have that flying expo to go to, remember? You promised I could borrow your Firebolt, Meteor: Platinum edition, and Flizzor, Harry."

Harry smiled. "Of course I remember, you dolt. I could never forget how much you whined to get at my Flizzor...If you mess that up in anyway, Oliver's going to kill you and I won't stop him." Each and every one of his brooms meant a lot to him, but he adored his Flizzor. (1) It was the official broom of the national quidditch leagues. It had his name engraved into the side in a splash of ruby, gold, and emerald, and it would turn on a pin seemingly with just a thought. It was one of the most perfect brooms Harry had ever encountered, and he had come across quite a lot of them. His collection was proof of that.

Ron's ears turned a bright red as was usual when he became embarrassed or angry. "Yes, well...I guess I did go a bit overboard there. I just want this to be a wicked exhibit. I've got all sorts of brooms for it: antiques, racers, trophies... It's amazing!" he exclaimed. Ron worked in the Ministry of Magic now. He was part of the 'Rules, Regulations, and Production of Flying Equipment' office.

"I can't wait to see some of the other stuff. I'll be by later to check it out. Who knows?" Harry said. "Maybe I'll come across something to add to my collection."

Ron laughed and shook his head disbelievingly. "I doubt that. You own more brooms than my entire office has gained over years! What could you possibly be missing?" Harry had a special room in his flat devoted completely to the numerous brooms he had gained from all over the world since he had left Hogwarts (and the two he had from there -one being the Firebolt, the other being the shattered pieces of his Nimbus 2000 put in a little glass case-). That room had to have been magically enlarged, of course.

Harry shrugged in good humor. "Stop it. I don't have one of ALL the brooms ever created. Anyways..." He picked his wand from his pocket before turning his head towards a back room and whistled. A dark blur shot out of the room and settled down in front of Harry's feet. "Here's the Flizzor and...'accio Firebolt', 'accio Meteor: Platinum'!" Said brooms also streaked out of the room and came to rest next to the Flizzor.

"Thanks, mate! I'll never forget you for this, and I'll never ask you for another favor again!"

He laughed. "Sure, Ron. And you'll be saying the same thing next week when you need something else!" Harry exclaimed with much mirth.

Ron sighed and grinned. "What can I say? Well, I'll talk to you later. Still coming to our dinner party tonight?" he asked.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Ron. It's your and Hermione's anniversary and I got to be there to help celebrate," he said, grinning, but then suddenly frowned. "I don't think that Jason will be coming though...I kind of broke up with him."

Ron also frowned. "Another one? Harry, you got to quit dumping boyfriends left and right! You say you want to find the perfect One, your Soul Mate, but you never keep one longer then a few weeks! How can you be sure you haven't already turned him away?"

Harry looked away, not wanting to meet his friend's eyes. "I can just...tell. I don't get the right vibe from them, and I don't want to be tied up with the wrong one when the right One does come!"

Ron smiled down at his shorter, raven-haired friend sadly. "I know, I know," he said, patting Harry on the back in a comforting way. "It's just I don't want to see you be alone forever. Me or 'Mione or any of your friends do. We all think the you've had your fair share of hardships. We want you to be happy."

He looked back up at him and gave him a watery smile. "Thanks. That, that really means a lot to me. I will find the perfect One though. I promise you that."

"You have my vote of confidence. I believe in you, Harry. I always will too."

"Yeah...Thanks, Ron. Thank 'Mione too. Best friends forever and all that, right?" he asked, getting up and walking to the front door to let his company out.

Ron got up and stretched. He picked up the brooms and set them over his shoulder. He walked over to his friend who now stood with the door open for him. Smiling again, he said, "Yeah, yeah. 'Til 'Mione loses her interest in books and we lose our interest in flying."

"Forever then. Bye, Ron. See ya later."

"See ya, Harry." With that, the tall, gangly red-head strode out the door to head for the convention with the three brooms. Harry watched after him for a bit longer before smiling and heading back to his bedroom. He needed to get dressed for the day and…He kinda wanted to talk to Draco again.

Their conversation last night had gone surprisingly well. Draco didn't seem to know anything about him as the Boy-Who-Lived or Voldemort, so their conversation was quite refreshing compared to what Harry normally had to endure from his 'devoted fans'.

-Flashback-

**Dragonboy: **_So, Harry. Tell me a little about yourself. _

**Goldengriffen**: _Well, there's only a few things I can say besides what has been covered in interviews, magazines, and books…Even if some of those things are untrue. Um, I…I've recently taken up the pastime of writing…And my favourite colour is not red or gold, but green._

**Dragonboy: **_Well…I have never really read anything about you. I suppose I could look up some stuff on the WWWWW…But that is a lot harder then it sounds. What other stuff is there about you? …And why would I think you favourite colour is red or gold?_

**Goldengriffen:** _Because I'm a Gryffindor. Or was, though I believe that I'll always be one…Even if I have some Slytherin qualities._

**Dragonboy: **_I still do not know what you are speaking about, but that is fine. I was mostly just asking about pastimes and the like. _

**Goldengriffen: **_Um…O…kay…I guess I like magic, obviously since I am a Wizard. I also love brooms, Quidditch, writing, reading, and occasionally cooking. What about you?_

**Dragonboy: **_Well, I am not very familiar with this "Quidditch" of yours, but I do like jousting or swordplay when I can…Though mostly it is just me watching instead of participating. My mentor did not wish for me to become hurt, though problems like those were easily fixable. I also enjoy reading and researching as well as performing spells, as you do. I can create a pretty good potion too._

Harry paused and stared at the screen. 'Jousting and swordplay,' he mouthed to himself before shrugging. Well, it sounds interesting anyways.

**Goldengriffen: **_Well, you know, Draco…I think that I am really going to like being friends with you. You don't fawn over me and I think that you will be able to teach me a bunch of new things. I could teach you some stuff too. Like quidditch! You'll have to tell me about jousting and whatever other things they do where you live._

There was a short pause. And then…

**Dragonboy:** _Deal._

The rest of the night, the two talked about all sorts of things. From jousting and quid ditch, to the two dark lords they each new of. Harry learned that Voldemort used many similar things as Tromedlov did and if the ministry or Dumbledore could have found out some of the stuff he was now learning, many more would probably have survived. It just seemed as if no information was available on the man because of a minister several centuries before their time who had ordered the burning of all books on the dark lord. Supposedly he was trying to prevent anyone from following in his footsteps after a young witch had threatened to do just that. Harry found that part on the web when searching for more information…It seemed not even Draco knew that, if his several bold exclamation points were nothing to go by.

Finally after hours, the sun began to rise again and Harry knew he had to log off. Wishing farewell to his new friend, he signed out and crawled into his bed for sleep. He may not have accomplished much by ways of chapters, but he felt much more satisfied and happy then he had in a long time…

-End Flashback-

----------------------

(1) Yes, Harry is in the professional quidditch leagues and didn't just buy his Flizzor at some store. It's not like in the third book, how they were selling Firebolts at that one store and then that's what the pro teams rode in the forth book. Why was he going to write a few chapters the other night then, if he wasn't an author? That'll be sorted out in the next chappie.


End file.
